this world against us 'verse
by sebbykurt
Summary: Kurt Hummel has spent years working in the quiet confines of his own little world, trimming flowers and balancing the books. Leave it for Sebastian Smythe, businessman by day and stripper by night, to rip the earth right out from under his feet.
1. peony

**AN: **Just the start of a 'verse! Inspired by a love for flowers and non-canon couples. I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

**Peony**

**_ -The peony became a masculine motif, associated with a devil-may-care attitude and disregard for consequence._**

Kurt Hummel is busy clipping the long stems off of a dozen peonies when the bell hanging over the front door rings, signaling an earlier-than-usual customer.

"Blaine," he calls, eyebrows furrowed as he measures twelve inches and makes a clean, precise cut. "Can you help the customer? I'm busy."

A curly-haired, smiling teenager pops out of the back room, winking playfully at the older man. "Sure thing, boss."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt goes back to cutting the flowers' sturdy stems, careful to make them all the same height. He loves Blaine, and he's happy that he managed to find someone as passionate about flowers as he is, but sometimes the kid's enthusiasm is a little too much to handle, especially this early in the morning.

When he's finally done, he plops them all in a large vase, standing back to assess his handiwork and smiling proudly at the work he's done.

It's only then, as he's untying his apron, that he looks up and notices the tall, easy grace of a stranger that immediately captures his attention.

"Real looker, yeah?"

Kurt jumps a little, turning to face Brittany, who greets him with a bright smile. "I…I don't…"

He's interrupted by the sound of crashing glass.

"_Shit_."

Throwing his apron on the counter, he walks from out behind it and fixes his features as politely as he can manage. Their customer is stifling a smile behind his hand while a sputtering, wild-eyed Blaine is looking from the broken vase at his feet to his approaching boss.

"K-Kurt, I…I'm so sorry, it just kind of—"

"It's my fault," the stranger interjects, waving off Blaine's attempts at apology. "He was handing it to me, and I got distracted."

Kurt faces the stranger with a slightly strained smile, catching his breath as his eyes take in the solid, casual form before him.

The man, probably not too much older than Kurt, sports a deliciously fit green sweater and a pair of distractingly tight skinny jeans. With the way his clothes fit, it's not hard to imagine just how muscular he must be under all of that suddenly unnecessary fabric.

His eyes are a shocking shade of green, their color made even more evident by the hue of his sweater. Hair a careful sweep of dark chestnut, everything about him seems simple and yet somehow complex.

Kurt has to bite his tongue to bring himself back to reality.

"I'll pay for it, of course," the stranger says, eyes shifting from Kurt's gaze to the glass on the floor. "It's a shame, though, that I ruined something so lovely."

"We have plenty more in the back!" Blaine squeaks, smiling happily now that he no longer fears getting in trouble. "Made in China, not really all that hard to find more of—"

"If you'd like to purchase a…_put-together_ version of this vase, I could surely run to the back and grab you a new one," Kurt interjects, glaring at Blaine from the corner of his eye. Damn him for having a soft spot for cute teenage boys and their clumsy personalities. "I'll have Brittany sweep up this mess."

Grinning confidently, the stranger shakes his head and waves the offer away. "Thanks, but I was just looking. I actually just came for the flowers, no vase needed."

"Oh, well, Blaine can insist in you in purchasing the right bouquet. Goodness knows the boy has a good eye for flowers."

Blaine beams, excitedly looking from his boss to the stranger, waiting for one of them to make the first move.

Behind them, Brittany is smiling knowingly behind the counter, shaking her head thoughtfully as she grabs the broom and dustpan.

Suddenly jerking his hand out in front of him, the stranger flashes a set of pearly whites and eagerly takes Kurt's hand in thanks. "It's a nice place you've got here, Mr…" He narrows his eyes in concentration as he dips forward, reading the name on Kurt's nametag. "Mr. Kurt Hummel."

Cheeks flushing despite his attempt to control it, Kurt gives the man's hand a firm shake before pulling away as quickly as he can without seeming rude.

"The name's Sebastian Smythe, by the way, in case you were wondering."

Nodding, Kurt gives another polite smile before turning promptly on his heel, not at _all_ repeating the name in his head like some sort of prayer for forgiveness. _Sebastian Smythe, Sebastian Smythe, Sebastian Smythe…_

When he finally gets back to the counter, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief as Sebastian follows Blaine around the store, disappearing behind leaves and petals.

"Handsome, isn't he?" Brittany asks, dumping the broken glass into a trash bin while watching the place where Sebastian's frame fades into the green limbs of a hanging vine. She wrinkles her nose playfully when Kurt ignores her, instead checking to make sure that everything is in order in the cash register.

"I'm not blind, you know, and it isn't long before Blaine starts catching along, too," she insists, crowding his personal space. "People say I'm stupid, but I'm not dumb enough to miss how lonely you are, Kurt. Maybe you should—"

Slamming the cash drawer shut, he walks away from her, huffing in frustration as he grabs a few discarded stems off of the counter. "I'm not lonely, Britt."

Her eyes turn sad as she watches him grab a cloth and scrub fruitlessly at an already spotless counter. The two of them have been friends since high school, with more fights between them than she's ever had with any other person in her life. But her love for him runs deep, and so she refuses to back down.

"I know what it's like, Kurt," she says softly, keeping her distance but watching him intently. "We're both terribly non-straight individuals, working with yet _another_ non-straight individual, living smack dab in the middle of a town more conservative than the Pope. It's okay to feel a little lonely, sometimes, but I just need you to know that I'm always here for you, alright?"

Sighing, Kurt leans his arms against the counter, closing his eyes and taking a deep, calming breath.

He's heard the same speech at least a dozen times since sophomore year, and most of them have been from Brittany. He understands where she's coming from, and some part of him truly is thankful for her concern, but he's worked well enough on his own, and he's not quite ready to accept the fact that maybe he's in need of a little extra attention.

"You're smarter than people give you credit for," he mumbles, returning to the pointless task of rubbing the cloth over the counter.

After that, the bell signaling new customers keeps Brittany too busy to bug him, and Blaine is busy running around trying to please the apparently picky Sebastian Smythe.

Even though Kurt is trying his best to keep himself occupied, measuring out flowers and ribbons to wrap around the stems, he finds his gaze trapped more than once on the endearing figure of their earliest customer.

It's not that Sebastian is entirely noticeable, or so attractive that an openly gay man can't keep his eyes off of him, but something Kurt can't quite put his finger on just _radiates_ from the other man.

Whatever it is, it's like a drug, and Kurt doesn't like it.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

By the time Sebastian has finally settled on a bouquet of white and yellow carnations, Kurt has had to trim dozens of flowers and clip at least thirty foot-long ribbons.

He's pulled out of his daze when Blaine bounces behind the counter, gently nudging Kurt out of the way. "Mr. Smythe finally settled on a bouquet, after asking about the meanings of at least every single flower in the store," he mumbles, typing his ID number into the computer and fixing himself with a genuine smile when Sebastian finally makes it to the counter.

Kurt tries his best to avoid eye-contact, listening to Blaine's interaction with the customer while pretending to be occupied with removing a large knot from a wad of ribbon that he knows he doesn't actually need.

He loses it, though, when Sebastian laughs at something Blaine says.

The sound is rich and warm, like honey poured straight into a cup of tea. Barely genuine, more polite, but still pleasant.

"Thank you for your purchase, and have a nice day!" Blaine bounces happily on his toes, clearly pleased with making a seemingly impossible sale.

Before he turns to leave, Sebastian locks eyes with Kurt.

The look shared between them roots Kurt to the floor, as if the man's eyes alone are enough to paralyze him.

"Have a nice day, Kurt."

Speechless, Kurt can only nod in response, watching the way Sebastian's fingers curl sure and strong around his flowers.

His eyes are trapped all the way until Blaine slams the register shut, pumping his fist in excitement before welcoming the next customer.

Brittany pats his shoulder as she walks by.


	2. morning glory

**Morning Glory**

**_-In Chinese folklore, they (morning glory) represent a single day for lovers to meet._**

Three days pass before yet another visit from the seemingly infamous Sebastian Smythe. Kurt is working alone, only twenty minutes from closing up shop when the man strides in, the sound of bells signaling his arrival.

Busy scribbling out notes to his supplier, Kurt doesn't notice the almost-stranger's presence until he's standing right behind him, clearing his throat to capture Kurt's attention.

Startled, Kurt drops his pen.

When he turns around, Sebastian, dressed head-to-toe in designer fabric, is bending over to pick up the pen, handing it to an awestruck Kurt, lips pulled to the side in an annoyingly confident show of pleasure.

"Sorry to scare you, but I'm here to pick up an order."

Stumbling to gain his composure, Kurt shakes his head as if to clear it. "Of course, of course…uhm…just…give me a minute. I-I have to run to the back. The carnations, right? I think Blaine took that order this morning—"

"Kurt."

Swallowing hard, Kurt looks up at the slightly taller man, curling his hands into fists to keep from losing himself in the too-bright green of his eyes. "I don't remember us ever having come to a first name basis—"

"Come to dinner with me tonight."

The words are heavy, pressing a weight against Kurt's chest that he hasn't felt since high school.

_Longing_.

"I-I don't know—"

With a daring burst of poise, Sebastian presses Kurt against the fridge carrying some of the shop's more fragile plants. The handle digs painfully into Kurt's back, but Sebastian's hands against the glass keep him trapped.

"When was the last time you went out on a date, Kurt? A real one, I mean. Not just a hook-up in the back of some guy's car just to keep yourself from going crazy."

Trying his best not to lose himself in the touch so gently pressed against his arms, Kurt scoffs and turns his head to look away, shivering at the cold touch of chilled glass against the back of his neck. "Stop acting like you know me. This is only the second time we've spoken, and it's hardly a proper conversation."

Grinning, Sebastian drops one of his arms, grabbing Kurt's chin and turning his head to make eye-contact. "That's why people date, isn't it? To get to know each other better? I mean, we're not teenagers anymore. Don't you think it's time to grow up?"

Suddenly angry, Kurt tries to shove at Sebastian's chest, refusing to believe that maybe he's not trying as hard as he usually could.

"I'm a good guy, you know," Sebastian insists, dipping forward, close enough to kiss. "A little insistent, sure, but there's nothing wrong with a person going after what they want. At least, _I_don't think so."

Kurt licks his lips, eyes darting from Sebastian's mouth to his eyes, taking in the sun dusted freckles across his cheeks, barely even noticeable if it weren't for their proximity.

"What if I say yes?"

Eyes flashing with satisfaction, Sebastian takes half a step backwards, dropping his arms back to his sides. "Give me your address and I'll pick you up eight."

"Awfully late for dinner, don't you think?"

Snorting, the other man shakes his head almost fondly. "You might want to eat before you come. Let's just say…it's not a _run-of-the-mill_ restaurant."

Pulse racing, Kurt fights back a smile. Admittedly, this isn't his brightest idea, but the truth, whether he wants to admit it or not, is that he hasn't enjoyed himself in quite some time—maybe even _years_. And although Sebastian seems more like a cocky asshole than a potential boyfriend, Kurt can't deny how attractive the other man is, and he definitely can't deny the excitement that courses through his bloodstream like liquid electricity.

"Assuming I say yes, what would I have to wear?"

Grinning like he expected it, Sebastian steps back, running a sure hand through his already tousled locks. His shirt rides up with the action, revealing a thin sliver of perfectly tanned skin. "Whatever you want. Just look hot."

Kurt shivers, unable to stop himself from imagining how soft that skin would be under his fingertips. Catching the glance, Sebastian's smile widens, engulfing his features in a quickly-becoming-familiar wave of self-importance.

"So, what d'ya say? Let me take you out tonight, Hummel. You look like you need a little fun."

Kurt almost says no. He almost shoves Sebastian out of the way, runs to the back to grab his flowers, and walks him out.

But something in the way the other man watches him, his eyes alight with a youthful animation, makes it hard for Kurt to do any of that.

So, instead, he excuses himself, steps behind the counter, and scrawls his number across a spare piece of paper. Sebastian watches him intently, smile not wavering for even a second.

"I'm looking forward to getting to know you better," Sebastian whispers, snatching the paper in such a way that their fingers brush.

Kurt has to bite his lip to keep himself from shivering again, nodding his agreement for fear of words failing him. His cheeks burn in a mix of awkward anticipation and fearful excitement. With the exception of a few one-night stands, it's been at _least_ two years since he's gone out to dinner with a relatively good looking boy.

"Mind grabbing my flowers, princess? I already paid in advance."

Flushing all the way back to the roots of his hair, Kurt sucks his bottom lip between his teeth while spinning on his heel and heading back to grab the same exact arrangement of white and yellow carnations that he had ordered the first time he ever showed up here.

Kurt wonders briefly who they're for, before shaking his head with the resolute conclusion that now is much too early to be drawing conclusions about the other man's intentions.

And so, taking the flowers with an overly-polite "thank-you", Sebastian reminds Kurt to check his phone.

When he's good and gone, Kurt falls back against the counter, sliding shaky hands through his hair and pooling everything he has not to call Brittany off of her break.

_What the hell did I just get myself into?_

-3-

Almost as soon as he gets home, Kurt gets his first text from Sebastian. He can't help the smile that curls half-unwilling across his face, shooting back a quick response before hopping in the shower.

With two hours to spare, he takes his time getting ready, very subtly giving the other man directions (some small part of him wants to frustrate Sebastian; wants to get a feel for just how far he wants to take this.) In turn, Sebastian releases absolutely nothing about their dinner plans, despite Kurt's insistent prodding.

Every answer is either a winky face or a string of gibberish, probably made to shoo Kurt away from the actual answer. He finds himself laughing more than once, and even texts during dinner, a habit that his father persistently made him kick back in middle school.

It's a wonderful, bittersweet reminder of the boy he once was—carefree and hopelessly in love with the idea of romance.

Still, he doesn't see much hope for romance in someone like Sebastian, and passes it all off as yet another, slightly more enjoyable night spent in the arms of a seemingly experienced, awfully attractive young man.

Besides, Sebastian is _fun_, which is something Kurt hasn't let himself enjoy in a long, _long_ time.

He doesn't fight it and, despite how odd and painful things might become, he'll later be thankful that he never let Sebastian get away from him.

-3-

Sebastian shows up in a car that Kurt honestly isn't surprised to find out is worth more than almost half a year's salary. Sebastian doesn't brag about it, though, and, in fact, seems almost eager to get off the subject of money.

"Did you eat something already?" Sebastian asks, smiling at Kurt while leaning forward to make sure that the road is clear. "I mean, I could always hook you up with some food at the bar but—"

"_Bar_?" Kurt looks down at his designer jeans in despair, suddenly terrified of what might happen to them. "You didn't tell me we were going to a _bar."_

"Oh, don't worry princess, it's not just _any_ bar. Think of it as…_a strip club_."

Had Kurt been drinking something, he surely would have spit it out all over the expensive leather of Sebastian's car. "_A __**strip**__ club_? Are you _kidding_ me?"

Sebastian finds this humorous enough to actually throw his head back in laughter, reaching over to gently nudge Kurt's shoulder. "Don't knock it till you try it, princess. I'll have you know that it's the classiest strip joint in all of Ohio."

"Oh, well, then, by all means, let's spend our first date at a _strip club_."

The steering wheel jerks in Sebastian's hands, but whatever spooked him – if anything – either goes away or isn't worth mentioning. "You make it sound like it's the worst idea you've ever heard." His face is a blank slate, but there's a teasing note to the words that Kurt doesn't miss.

"Well, it's hardly the _best_. The last time I went out with a boy, we went on a nice long walk through the park at night—"

"Well," Sebastian interrupts, teeth breaking through his smile. "I guess it's a good thing I'm a_man_ and not a _boy_, yeah?"

Kurt can't help the small chuckle that slips past his fingers, which, spurring Sebastian on, results in a whole slew of tragically hysterical manliness versus boyhood jokes. Kurt is red in the face by the time they finally make it to the bar.

All laughter dies immediately, his every ounce of attention captured by the sudden burst of bright, pink and green neon lights. They're in a part of the state that Kurt isn't familiar with, obviously a fairly well-kept city surrounded by towering buildings and successful establishments. Nothing compared to a major city, of course, but still impressive for Ohio.

The club itself is fairly small, at least on the outside. Dark brick with windows hidden by thick, black velvet. Images of scantily clad women moving in time with the flashes of too-bright lights. Fading, quivering tubes flashing the words '_open for business_.'

"This is a joke, right?" Kurt finds himself asking, looking frantically from the building to the man smiling calmly in the driver's seat.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. "See, this is why I usually don't take dates to my place of employment—"

"_Place of employment_?"

Again, Sebastian chuckles, but Kurt can't help but to think that maybe the sound is somehow a little bitter. "The fancy clothes and nice car threw you off, huh? You thought I was, what, a lawyer? CEO of some amazing company? Well, I'll have you know that a lot of what I have was all bought with daddy's money, I'm a lawyer i_n training_, and I'm currently paying what my family won't with the dollars stuffed down my crotch. Now, rather than gaping at me like a Satanist who just saw Jesus, let's get out of the car and head on inside. I'm already ten minutes late for my shift."

Kurt can only watch, torn between confusion and awe, as Sebastian steps out of the car, his moves graceful and sweeping, much too elegant to be a…well…a _stripper_.

But, if Kurt is anything, it's _definitely_ not rude.

Unbuckling, he opens the passenger door slowly, stepping out into the cool dampness of a rain-warm city in the middle of Ohio.

Any traces of bitterness gone, Sebastian holds his hand out for Kurt to take.

The moment their skin touches, fingers intertwining like they've been doing this their whole lives, Kurt feels slightly more comfortable with whatever might be waiting for him behind those doors.

Only _slightly_, though.

-3-

The club is a mess of glitter, light, and music. Kurt has to narrow his eyes to see it all at once, subconsciously squeezing Sebastian's hand.

"Your first time to a strip joint, princess?" Sebastian asks, his voice close enough to Kurt's ear that his lips brush the line of his jaw.

"M-maybe…"

Every table is complete with either a scantily clad man or woman, their bodies covered head to toe in sweat and sparkles. Some are more decently covered than others, whereas some, hidden in the darker corners of the club, are wearing hardly anything at all.

Kurt sees more than one completely exposed breast, his stomach swooping in protest as he angles his head to look at Sebastian rather than at the women shooting him predatory glances all around the room.

Curling an arm protectively around his date's waist, Sebastian starts to tug Kurt towards the back, wincing in disapproval when one of the waitresses knocks into Kurt's shoulder. "Don't worry, princess, I'll have Santana take care of you."

Right when he's about to protest, a tall, dark skinned woman with bright red lips, black hair, and a barely-there nurse's costume is stepping out of a back door that Kurt hadn't noticed before, catching sight of Sebastian and smiling warmly. When she notices Kurt, however, her lips twist into a confused frown.

"Tana, this is Kurt," Sebastian says with a nod, letting his arm slip from around Kurt's waist.

Kurt misses the contact immediately, but hates himself for it all the same. He should want to be running straight for the exit, not contemplating ways to get Sebastian's hands back on him.

Looking him up and down, the woman who Kurt figures is Santana takes a half a step forward, overwhelming him with the stench of cheap perfume and something that smells oddly like candy. "Is this the—"

Sebastian cuts her off. "Take him to my room, will you? And don't say anything stupid, okay? I actually kind of like this one."

Kurt blushes. _That's gotta mean something, right? Maybe this won't turn out to be as much of a disaster as it already seems…_

This, of course, is a total and complete misunderstanding.

Sebastian leaves Kurt with Santana, who barely even glances at him before waving for him to follow her through the same door she only just came from. "Lord only knows why Bas thought it would be smart to bring a boy here."

"W-what do you mean?" Kurt asks, wincing at the sound of his own stutter. Usually, Kurt is the picture of composure.

She waves at another woman walking down the hallway, but is only shot an angry glare in turn. When she sees Kurt, the woman snorts and shakes her head.

"Smythe never brings people here," Santana explains, stopping at a red door at the end of the hallway. She reaches into pockets that Kurt is surprised can actually _hold_ anything in such a tight outfit, pulling out a set of keys whose metallic jingle he can barely even hear over the quivering bass. "I think he figures that anyone who finds out what he does for a living won't be as willing to put out. Lord only knows why he brought _you_ here. You seem about as innocent as a god damned fairy. If anyone's not bending over the table anytime soon, it's probably you."

Kurt's jaw falls slack.

Rolling her eyes, Santana pushes the door open, revealing a dark, gray room with nothing but a locked trunk, a couch, and an old stereo.

He must look absolutely appalled, because Santana snorts and shoves him inside, not even checking to make sure that he's okay when he stumbles over his own feet. "Bas doesn't have much 'getting ready' to do, seeing as he hardly ever wears anything anyway, so you shouldn't have to wait too long. If anybody else tries to come in, tell them who you belong to and they should leave without a fight." She winks, closing the door before Kurt can protest.

Suddenly feeling dizzy, he falls back on the couch, familiar enough with dirty city couches not to care too much about what he might be sitting on. (Back in New York, after all, they'd dragged their couch in from off of the curb.)

Struggling to even his breathing, he closes his eyes and takes a deep, shivering breath.

Not wanting to lose control of the situation, he lets every negative thought slip away, fingers twitching in a half-hearted attempt to hang on to his own sanity.

_This is not a dream. Sebastian Smythe is not a figment of my imagination. He is an incredibly successful, __**attractive**__ young man with a beautiful smile and memorable laugh. You do not live in New York anymore; you do not work at Vogue; you will never try out for a Broadway show again. It's time to stop holding on to the idea of the perfect man. Romance is dying, isn't it?_

He almost laughs, but the sound is cut off when the door opens.

Straightening up, Kurt sweeps a nervous hand through his hair, prepared to tell a stranger that he's waiting for someone else.

Only, it's not a stranger that opens the door, but Sebastian.

As he closes the door behind him, eyes bright with excitement, Kurt can't help the confused, fumbling way his lungs stumble to catch air.

Because, in nothing but a pair of too-tight green boxer shorts, Sebastian Smythe is the most beautiful man Kurt has ever seen.


	3. lavender

**Lavender**

**_-In the language of flowers, lavender flowers denote purity, silence, devotion and caution._**

"You look like you've seen a ghost, princess," Sebastian teases, walking over to the trunk, flipping the latch, and pulling out a yellow scrap of fabric. Upon unfolding it, Kurt lets out a quiet sigh of relief when he finds that Sebastian is, in fact, holding a t-shirt, and is currently slipping it on over his shoulders.

Feeling slightly more relaxed, although still on edge, Kurt feels like a complete and total idiot when he mumbles "This is…an _interesting_ idea for a first date."

Shrugging like he's heard this before (_and Kurt's stomach lurches like it doesn't like that thought at all, not one bit_), the other man shoots Kurt a half smile before plopping down beside him, curling his legs up under him in such a way that Kurt can just barely see where his shorts end and the muscles of his inner thighs begin.

He has to look away before the situation somehow becomes even _more_ awkward.

"There's no point in trying to go after someone who can't accept you for everything you are," Sebastian nearly mumbles, eyes flickering like restless flames across the surprisingly clean carpet. "So I just get it all over with on the first run."

Suddenly losing just the barest hint of vulnerability, Sebastian looks back at Kurt with a grin so wide that Kurt can't help but to feel happy, himself. "Besides, I'm proud of what I do, so why wouldn't I want to show it off?"

Shaking his head, Kurt has to break eye contact before his heart pounds out of his chest and smacks his date right across the face.

"Well, as odd as this is, is this the part where we tell each other all about ourselves?"

"Sounds lovely," Sebastian muses, cocking his head to the side. "But I only have an hour with you, and even _that_ took a lot of convincing. Besides, there are cameras in here, and they'll probably fire me if they don't see that I'm working."

Kurt's brain works sluggishly to catch up with what Sebastian's trying to say.

But before he can say anything, Sebastian is crawling to his knees, lips suddenly so _impossibly close_ to Kurt's own mouth.

"They can't hear us," Sebastian continues, eyes watching the movement of his fingers as he runs them over Kurt's collarbone, lips twitching into an almost-smile when Kurt shivers and his cheeks flush red.

"W-why cameras?" Kurt stutters, biting his lip when Sebastian starts playing with the collar of his shirt.

Snorting, Sebastian rolls his eyes and, without so much as a warning, swings his leg over Kurt's lap, succeeding in straddling him completely.

Sebastian's body is warm, and he smells overwhelmingly of cinnamon and aftershave, like he cleaned himself up just for this.

"Customers aren't supposed to touch the strippers," Sebastian whispers, lips just barely brushing the shell of Kurt's ear. "Unless, of course, the stripper looks like they're enjoying it."

Kurt swears his brain short circuits when Sebastian grabs Kurt's hand and brings it to his chest, moving until their noses brush. Under the thin fabric of Sebastian's t-shirt, Kurt can feel the frantic, fluttering beat of his heart.

The sensation is maddening.

Surging forward in a desperate attempt to feel something other than_ distance_, Kurt slams their mouths together with a strangled whimper that gets lost in the fight for dominance between their tongues.

It's a reckless, thoughtless move, but he doesn't let himself regret it. Especially not when Sebastian _groans_, the sound reverberating through his chest and scattering vibrations like sparks across Kurt's skin.

"Just for the record," Sebastian pants, pulling back to splatter small, lingering kisses against Kurt's neck and jaw. "I wasn't planning on bringing you in here for this reason. I even put on the shirt and everything—"

Kurt cuts him off with an even harder kiss, feeling the sensation like a bruise.

Hands moving seemingly of their own accord, Kurt finds himself with a handful of Sebastian's ass. In response, the other man's hips twitch, revealing his already fully hard erection. Kurt whines, struggling to somehow get _closer_.

Sebastian mumbles something unintelligible when Kurt pulls away, shoving Sebastian gently off of him only to craw on top of him, twining his fingers through the very same material that Sebastian had put on in an attempt to cool things down. "Kurt," he pants, gritting his teeth in a desperate attempt to keep his hips still. "You're gonna—"

Another kiss.

"Shit, are you sure—"

Kurt rocks his hips, eyes rolling back into his skull while he bites his lip to keep from screaming out. The friction is delicious, although not quite enough, but Kurt settles for keeping his jeans on when some quiet voice in the back of his head warns him not to go_ too_ fast on the first date.

"I really did want to get to know you," Sebastian whispers, rocking his hips upwards. Kurt bites his tongue.

Shaking his head, Kurt drops his head until their foreheads are pressed together. "There…there'll be time for that…some other time…I-I…_ah_!"

He doesn't notice the unsure flicker of emotion across Sebastian's features.

Instead, he is much too busy trying to keep himself put together. Coming too soon might make him look pathetic, but holding it in for too much longer might actually _kill_ him.

Noticing this, Sebastian grinds his hips a little harder, grinning as he reaches up to cup Kurt's face between his hands. "You're close, aren't you?" The words are spoken roughly, with a little too much force behind every syllable.

_"Ungh…S-Sebastian…"_

"It's okay, Kurt, _I've got you_."

And, embarrassingly enough, that's all it takes.

It's_ ridiculous _how hard he comes. White lights, rolling eyes, slack jaw, soundless scream—the whole shebang. Surely, no man has every come this hard during a simple game of _frottage_.

Before this can really sink in, however, Sebastian's eyes are slamming shut and his hips are jerking spastically. Unable to help himself, Kurt grins wickedly and reaches down between them, palming at the other man's impressively hard erection through his shorts.

Sebastian comes with a shout, slamming a palm over his mouth as he rocks up against Kurt one last time.

Kurt doesn't think he'll ever forget the way it felt to see Sebastian come for the first time, every fiber of his being torn apart by the mere touch of Kurt's body against his own. It was almost…well, almost _beautiful_.

God only knows how long they lay like that, bodies limp and breaths shallow. Kurt rests with his head on the side of the couch, eyes closed as he matches his breathing to the rhythm of the chest moving beneath his hands. Even through the t-shirt, Sebastian's body feels hot.

Kurt lets his body relax; lets exhaustion seep through his bones.

He lets himself forget where they are, who might be watching.

He sighs contentedly when Sebastian starts to draw small, simple circles against Kurt's thigh with the tip of his finger. The sensation is ticklish but nonetheless pleasant, like a dip in the hot tub after an hour in the pool.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone look so sexy while coming." Sebastian, as Kurt is slowly starting to figure out, has a habit of breaking the silence. Not to mention, everything he says is horribly _blunt_.

Cheeks staining the color of spilt wine, Kurt ducks his head, smiling despite himself. "I really do hope that's a compliment."

The gentle rumble of Sebastian's laughter makes Kurt's heart feel warm. "Well, it certainly isn't an insult."

Looking down at Sebastian's features, at the soft, lazy way his eyelashes fan shadows against his cheek bones, makes Kurt feel suddenly unsure, although pleased. It feels as if he's just crossed some massive line without even realizing it, the very infrastructure of his being changing along with the jump.

Atoms rearranging. Pulse pounding. Skin shifting across slipping bones.

In reality, however, he is just a boy sitting on top of another boy, heart beating a little too fast and breath coming out a little too quick.

Stretching his arms over his head, Sebastian sits up on his elbows, nearly knocking Kurt over. Pouting, Kurt tries to come off as bothered, but he only ends up in making Sebastian chuckle, which is hardly the desired effect.

"My underwear are ruined," Kurt whines, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he crawls off of Sebastian, landing on the couch with a barely contained shutter.

Feigning sadness, Sebastian frowns. "Aww, poor little princess. At least your boxers aren't the only things you're _wearing_."

Undeterred by Sebastian's genuine displeasure, Kurt snorts. Resting his head against the back of the couch, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, settling the last few erratic beats of his heart.

"So, you like flowers, huh?"

Laughing in disbelief, Kurt shakes his head. "Really? We just got off on each other, and the first thing you want to talk about afterwards is my _job_?"

Shrugging, like it's no big deal, Sebastian sits up a little straighter. "Well, you already know all about _my _job."

Ignoring the suddenly bitter taste in his mouth, Kurt tilts his head to look at the other man, fingers twitching in his lap. "And mine isn't anywhere near as interesting."

"Then why did you pick it?"

Kurt rolls his eyes.

"I mean, no offense, but your job seems a little boring for such a…well, _different_ person."

"Again, I'm taking that like a compliment."

"Good, because I meant it as such."

"I just like flowers, is all. I mean, I had an exciting job when I was back in New York but—"

Perking up at the mention of the city, Sebastian sits up straight, balancing himself with his hands against the cushions. "Wait, you lived in New York? Why the hell did you _leave_?"

"My father died."

Sebastian's excitement dies like a flame in the wind. "Kurt, I-I'm so…"

"You don't have to apologize," Kurt rushes, unthinkingly resting his hand on Sebastian's ankle in an attempt to comfort him. "It's been four years since then, but by the time everything was ready for me to go back, it was too late to return to my job, and returning to school would have been pointless when it held no actual future for me."

Sebastian frowns. "What did you used to want your future to be?"

"Broadway."

Sebastian's mouth parts in surprise. "Damn, princess, you sure know how to throw a curveball."

For however long they remain there, Sebastian keeps up a quiet, imploring set of questions about Kurt's life. Hardly able to provide anything more than an answer, Kurt eventually gives up on tying to ask his own, conceding with the notion that Sebastian's enthusiasm is actually kind of adorable, if not entirely unexpected.

While learning about Kurt's job, age (23, whereas Sebastian is 25), and home life (an apartment just ten minutes away from the flower shop), Sebastian also offers up a few very vague bits of information about his own life.

He tells Kurt very briefly about his parents and how, despite their kindness, he left eagerly the moment he turned eighteen. They were constantly offering to pay his bills, as the Smythe family was seemingly anything but poor, but Sebastian found their efforts tiring and dull. Along with his parents, he also has a younger sister, whose name he doesn't divulge but who he gushes about happily, describing her as a successful business woman with a wonderful husband and a beautiful home out in Paris.

Kurt soaks it all in, forgetting the uncomfortable, drying stickiness in his pants as he listens intently, speaking only when he has to and taking every other opportunity to really _hear_ what Sebastian has to say.

Although cocky and opinionated, Sebastian is smart and witty. He doesn't treat Kurt like an imbecile, which Kurt is appreciative of considering his most recent romantic conquests.

Being with Sebastian actually feels _good_.

This is why, when someone knocks on the door three times, signaling that their time together is drawing to a close, Kurt's hear sinks.

Sighing, Sebastian casts the door an annoyed glance.

"Has it really been an hour already?" Kurt wonders aloud, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Guess so, princess."

Standing up, Sebastian walks over to the trunk, pulling out a pair of gray sweatpants and tossing them at Kurt. He chuckles when Kurt looks unhappily down at them.

"Hey, it's better than waiting around in your own dried come, isn't it?"

Kurt blushes furiously.

"Get dressed, and then I'll have Santana come and take you home."

"What, no, I—"

"Don't worry, she doesn't bite."

Unable to protest, Kurt can only watch as Sebastian walks out of the room, bringing a new pair of boxers with him.

_What the hell just happened?_

-3-

Kurt is thankful that Santana doesn't ask any questions.

She looks fairly decent in a plain white t-shirt and cut-off shorts, clearly forcing a smile when he walks out into the hallway to meet her.

Kurt struggles to see around the packed club, desperate for just one last glance at his date, but Santana moves too quickly for him to get a good look.

They drive with the music blaring loudly, quieted only as they approach Kurt's apartment.

Pulling into the lot, she stops the car and shuts off the radio, sighing heavily as she glances at the balled up mess of denim clasped tight in his grip. "Did he even give you his number? Or tell you that he'd be seeing you again?"

Out of habit, Kurt goes to say _yes, yes he did_, only to stop himself when he realizes that _no…no he did not…_

His heart thumps painfully.

"Fuck him," Santana spits, slamming the heel of her palm against the steering wheel. "He's always doing this, leaving me to clean up his messes—"

"I'm not his _mess_," Kurt interrupts, unbuckling his seatbelt and flinging it backwards angrily, shooting the woman a hard glare.

Snorting, she pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, popping one of the slim sticks between her teeth and flicking the lighter's flame over the ashy tip. "You expect too much from him." She puffs a ring of smoke at his face, grinning when he covers his nose with his hand. "Boys like Sebastian, they're no good."

"Just because he's—"

"Just do yourself a favor, sweetheart, and don't get your hopes up. If you never see him again, it's probably for the best. Now, do _me_ a favor and get the hell out of my car. You smell like too much soap."

Gaping openly at her, Kurt has half a mind to slap her across the face.

"I _said_," she enunciates, as if speaking to a person of a significantly lower intelligence level. "Get. The. Hell. Out. Of. My. _Car_."

And he does, but not before growling out an uncharacteristically aggressive '_fuck you_.'

Not bothering to look behind him, he stomps up to his unit, tearing the keys out of the pocket of his jeans and barging inside with little care as to what neighbors he might be awakening.

"Some _date_," he whispers angrily, ripping his shirt off and throwing it on the couch as he stumbles towards the bathroom, itching to rid his body of the stench of cheap cologne and glitter.


	4. snap dragon

"He doesn't want to see you."

"And what makes you so sure of that, hobbit? Have you really been living in a hole for so long that you finally drove yourself crazy enough to believe yourself capable of psychic powers?"

"God, no wonder he told me to send you away if you ever came back here—"

"Listen, you Disney Prince wannabe, you're going to go get your boss or I'm going to—"

Stepping out from the back room, Kurt is not as surprised as he should be to see Sebastian Smythe standing at the front counter, arguing heatedly with Blaine, who holds his ground with balled fists and red cheeks. For a few moments, Kurt simply watches them, debating between getting in the middle or just letting Blaine take care of it.

Sebastian has been making his usual orders, although someone else was always sent in his place to pick them up.

It's been three weeks since the disaster that was their first – and _only_ – date. Kurt only spent three nights staying up late watching _I Love Lucy _reruns and scarfing down ice cream, getting his act together once Brittany started rattling the truth out of him.

She had been shocked at first, spouting something ridiculous about unicorns and one-night stands. Her reaction had actually provided Kurt with a strong enough dose of humor to get back on his feet, ignoring the way his heart lurched in protest.

He barely even _knew_ Sebastian; it wasn't like what they had was anything special.

When Brittany asked, he said he was simply tired of being used like some sort of slot machine in, he teased half-heartedly, a high-end casino.

Right as Blaine stamps his foot in indignant protest, Kurt decides it's time to stop the madness before it gets any worse.

"Can I help you?" he asks, wiping the palms of his hands on his apron while smiling politely at the man whose face he refuses to let affect his heart.

Spinning around to face his boss, Blaine waves his hands frantically. "Kurt, I can handle this I really can—"

"Kurt, thank god," Sebastian sighs, shoulders slumping in relief. "I kept trying to get him to go get you but—"

"You've already received your usual weekly order, Mr. Smythe. Was something wrong with the flowers? Or are you here to order something else? We have a great display of roses, if you want Blaine to show them to you."

Blinking slowly, Sebastian frowns. "Kurt—"

"They really are beautiful." Kurt feels heavy, like he's treading water in the ocean with anchors attached to his ankles.

Eyes widening, Blaine looks between the two men, fingers curling anxiously at his sides.

If he's being absolutely honest with himself, the urge to talk to Sebastian like a normal human being is overwhelming. Even with his uptight attitude and wild sense of being, Sebastian had been the only person interested in Kurt's life in a long, _long_ time.

Blaine and Brittany cared, of course, but Blaine was still just a boy, and Brittany had her own life to deal with.

Sebastian is a wild card in a familiar deck. Kurt has to convince himself that a life lived simply is better than a life lived not knowing whether or not the man you might be falling for is falling alongside you.

"If we could just talk in private," Sebastian says quickly, looking from Blaine to Kurt. But even from where he's standing, Kurt can see that the other man is losing his patience; that the cooler, cockier side of him is starting to throw its greedy little arms around his actions.

"I'm not even mad that you didn't call me," Kurt says evenly, keeping eye-contact without even as much as a flinch on his part. "I'm _mad_ that you kept on making orders, but never once had the guts to show up yourself to come get them. I'm _mad_ that you lied to me, told me we'd be going out on a proper date, and took me to a _strip club_."

Beside him, Blaine blanches.

"I'm _mad _that I _trusted _you."

The silence that follows the last statement is stifling, like an electric current caught between their bodies. Blaine looks torn between standing his ground and running away, gnawing anxiously on his bottom lip.

Eyes hardening, Sebastian smiles bitterly, stepping as close as he can before Blaine slides in front of him, crossing his arms in a useless attempt at protection. Sebastian snorts, but doesn't move to shove the teenager out of his way.

"Do you know who the flowers are for, Kurt?"

Kurt doesn't say anything—just stands there, eyes calm and assessing, studying the bizarre shift of emotions across the other man's face. Anger, guilt, sadness, _longing_.

"My mother, Kurt. Because she's _dying_."

Eyes widening, Kurt's heart clenches painfully, like he's just been shot.

"White for remembrance, because she's starting to forget the things that used to make her happy, and yellow for cheerfulness, because the color of that damned hospital room makes it almost fucking _impossible_ to _be _happy. I couldn't call you, Kurt, because her condition got _worse_."

Kurt swallows hard, feeling sick to his stomach while his head swims with confused guilt.

"My family used to have lots of money," Sebastian practically spits, ignoring Blaine completely as he venomously explains everything to Kurt. "You couldn't go anywhere without hearing about the Smythe family; about the property they owned in Paris, about the beautiful boarding schools they were sending their kids to.

"I left when I was eighteen because I was tired of being spoon fed everything I'd ever wanted. I was about to start my_ life_, Kurt.

"And then, one day, when I'm twenty-two and stupid, I'm hanging out with this really cool chick in some bar, who introduces herself as Santana Lopez. She tells me that she's a stripper, and I hate her for it, but we're both so drunk that when I tell her, neither one of us cares, and we both keep drinking.

"And then I get a call from my sister. _Mom's got cancer_, she said. _Doesn't have that much longer to live._

"All the money we had was filtered into her treatments, until we were struggling to make ends meet. We only got to keep the house because my grandmother refused to give it up when it had already been in our family for so many years."

He stops for a moment, wiping almost nervously at the sudden collection of sweat gathered at his hairline.

"My sister left—got married and moved back to Paris. She sends us money every now and then, but hardly enough to make a dent in all the bills. My father drinks himself unconscious on a daily basis. My grandparents are all too pompous to care about anyone but themselves. Cousins, aunts, uncles—none of them want anything to do with a part of the family that can't throw a fancy dinner party at least twice every month.

"So, one day, when Santana called me to ask if I could hook her up with any nice girls, I asked her if she could get me a job that paid well. I fucked random boys and even a few girls; anything to stop feeling like shit.

"But then Santana sat me down and laid out the complicated blueprints of what an actual relationship is supposed to look and feel like, and, well, _fuck me_ for wanting it, because look at where it's gotten me. If it weren't for Santana saving my ass, if it weren't for that very same strip club that you so ignorantly turn your nose up at, I'd probably be dead, and my mother would have nobody to fight for her, and she'd be gone too."

Chest heaving with the efforts of an unexpected rant, Sebastian's eyes soften with sorrow, narrowing just ever so slightly as he waits for some sort of reaction from Kurt.

But Kurt is too shocked to do anything more than stare, expression falsely neutral as the shock of everything that Sebastian just told him sinks permanently into his brain.

Misreading his shock as ignorance, Sebastian shakes his head, turns on his heel, and pushes out of the shop without so much as a goodbye.

Kurt remains where his is, feet feeling permanently glued to the floor. He doesn't even realize he's crying until Blaine is suddenly dabbing at his cheeks with a tissue, watching his boss with enough pity in his expression to rival a worried mother.

But that analogy only makes him feel worse, and before he really even thinks about the action, he's dropping his head to Blaine's shoulder and sobbing his eyes out.

-3-

"He's not worth it," Santana snarls, popping the cap off her third beer and swirling it around angrily. "If he couldn't understand, especially after you poured your whole fucking heart out, then he's _definitely_ not worth it."

Sebastian looks uninterestedly down at his own beer, wondering vaguely when he became such a soft-ass.

They're sitting in Santana's apartment; the television turned on but muted as they waste their day off drinking shitty beer and ranting angrily about their lives. Sebastian's has been the lasting topic, stretching on now for at least forty-five minutes.

"I never even wanted a relationship until you came along and convinced me that it'd be a good idea," he mumbles grumpily, dropping his empty bottle carelessly on the floor and standing up to go grab another one.

Snorting, Santana grabs the remote and hastily unmutes it, watching intently as some unfairly attractive man grabs a young female detective and kisses her hungrily on the mouth. As cheesy as the scene is, it stirs an unfamiliar ache in Sebastian's bones. Why can't _he_ have something like that? Why doesn't _he_ get the beautiful love story with the inevitable happy ending?

These questions surprise him. Never before, at any other moment in his life, has he _wanted_ that proverbial happy ending.

Boys came and went and, although less frequently, he's still never one to turn down a good old fashioned one-night stand.

He never let something as trivial as a _feeling_ get in the way.

That is, until he met Kurt.

Upon first seeing the other man, Sebastian had been absolutely intrigued. It wasn't every day you came across a young, _attractive_ man working in a flower shop. Noticing Kurt became something he just couldn't keep himself from doing.

At first, he was going to let it slide, maybe ask Kurt out for a beer before mauling him in the back of his car.

But that very same night, Santana had gone on and on about the mechanics of a real relationship, and the crazier, more adventurous side of Sebastian read it as a sign.

Little did he know, he was setting himself up for something he still wasn't quite ready to handle.

Change was better handled in small doses, apparently.

"You're the one who decided to take him to the club, for fuck's sake," Santana continues, eyes still glued to the television screen, where the very same detective who was moments ago in a man's arms is now storming guns ablaze into some sort of abandoned factory. "And it probably didn't help that you asked someone else to drive him home."

"Isn't acting impulsively supposed to be romantic?" He grabs another beer out of Santana's pitiful excuse for a fridge, leaning against the countertop and tapping his fingers impatiently against the hard surface. "I mean, spontaneity, right?"

"Not if what you're doing is stupid."

"Fuck you!"

Turning in her seat to face him, she smiles almost sweetly, but with just enough mockery to make Sebastian angry. "I thought you'd never ask."

"First you get mad at me for _not_ asking you for help, then you don't actually give it when I'm asking. _Typical_. No wonder you can't get a girl to last for more than a few weeks."

The words are harsh, and he knows it, but that's exactly the point.

Although Santana is probably the closest thing to a best friend that he's ever had, and vice versa, they can't seem to ever get enough enjoyment out of each other's pain.

It's a welcome distraction, at least.

Santana welcomes it openly, eyes narrowing to dangerous slits of disapproval. "You're such a fucking _dick_, Smythe."

Grinning, Sebastian takes a much needed gulp of alcohol, closing his eyes as the bittersweet taste of _forgetting_ slides down his throat. "Don't I know it."

-3-

Brittany listens to Kurt's whole story with wide, sad eyes, flinching every time he recalls certain parts of Sebastian's speech that are particularly hard to hear.

"…and I just feel like such an _ass_." Miserably, he curls into a tighter ball on the couch, dropping his chin to his knees and sucking in a sharp, teary breath. "I mean, I barely know the guy…but still…I just…"

Grabbing his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze, Brittany nods in understanding. Neither of them has ever been particularly lucky in the romance department.

"How about I go to the store and grab some ice cream, okay?" She asks, reaching out to sweep aside a loose strand of Kurt's otherwise meticulously styled hair.

Pathetically, he whimpers "the biggest size they have?"

Lips pulling to the side in a half-hearted smile, Brittany assures him that she'll search tirelessly for the local market's largest container of _Cookies N' Cream_ before kissing him quickly on the cheek and grabbing her purse.

The second the door slams shut behind her, Kurt feels utterly, wretchedly alone.

Resignedly, he grabs a blanket off of the back of the couch, throwing it over his legs and lying down with a wince.

He's about to doze off when there's a knock on the door.

Expecting Brittany having forgotten her keys again, he doesn't even bother getting up. "Come in, Britt!"

The door opens and closes.

The unmistakable sound of heels hitting the floor is the only thing that momentarily jerks Kurt out of his own self-pity. Brittany _never_ wears heels.

Heart slamming almost painfully against his ribcage, he sits upright, clutching desperately at the blanket as if it can somehow offer some sort of protection.

Standing above him, hands on her hips and hair tossed wildly, is none other than the same woman who drove him home three weeks ago. Her eyes are narrowed impatiently, like he should have somehow expected her.

"S-Santana?" he stutters. "What…what are you _doing_ in here?"

"You wanna know something funny, Hummel?" she asks, ignoring his questions and hitting him gracelessly with her purse.

"_Ow_! What the _hell_—"

"I saw Sebastian cry today. He didn't think I saw him, but I did. But before you let that get to your head, I really don't think it had anything to do with _you_. He's not stupid, and he's _definitely_not emotional. But he's the one who went out looking for a real relationship for the first time_ever_ in his sad excuse for a life, and yet _you're_ the one crying your pathetic little eyes out like the little boy down the street who just watched his cat get run over."

She slams her purse back down on his thigh, this time harder than the first.

Angrily, he stands up and grabs her wrists, shoving until she nearly trips over her own heels.

"Stop fucking _hitting_ me and tell me why you came here!"

As if burned, she rips her hands away, rubbing with disgust at the places where his skin met hers. "I'm _here_ to discuss how you're going to get Sebastian back. Because, deny it all you want, but I know the only reason you're not already out there trying is because you think boys like him are a lost cause. But let me be the first one to tell you, you _stupid_, _pompous_ piece of _shit_, that boys like Sebastian Smythe are worth every ounce of love you've got left to give. So we're going to sit down, we're going to discuss this, and we're going to make Sebastian happy again, because fuck knows he deserves it."

When she's done—when she's _finally_ done—her chest heaves with the efforts of her anger. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is an even bigger mess than it was before. In a way that almost frightens him, she's kind of beautiful. Like one of those crazy, determined pop idols that he so often admired back when he was a teenager.

He thinks of Sebastian, of the way his body almost seemed to convulse with anger and sorrow. He thinks of how it felt to be _with _Sebastian, in more ways than just breathing the same air and enjoying the same things.

"I'm in," he says confidently. "But my friend is going to come back any minute now, so I hope you don't mind a little company." He tries a smile, but it falls flat when she doesn't even look at him.

Huffing angrily, Santana shakes her head, surprising him when she kicks of her heels and throws her purse on the table. "You got any alcohol?"

"Yeah…uh, in the fridge. It's not very strong…"

"So we'll just have to drink even more of it."

She grabs another one for him, popping the top off her own and taking a greedy swig.

"Now, let's get started."


End file.
